


Dear Skip

by miss_grey



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Canon?, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Letters, She doesn't live here, Siblings, Who is she?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:54:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23125069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_grey/pseuds/miss_grey
Summary: Just a series of letters written between Skip and his sister.
Relationships: Skip Muck & Easy Co, Skip Muck & Ruth Muck, Skip Muck/Faye Tanner
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Dear Skip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lysel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysel/gifts).



> My first time writing Skip. I hope I did okay :)

_August 28, 1942_

_Dear Skip,_

_Mom and I made a blueberry pie today, your favorite. It was a bit more tart and the crust a little more bland than usual, but we did our best, all things considered. It was a wonderful treat and we had Mr. and Mrs. Winslow over to share it. They asked about you. Everyone does._

_Two more boys from town signed up—Kenny and Jerry, brothers a year younger than you, remember? Everyone’s real proud of them, and real proud of you, too. I know I give you a lot of grief, but I want you to know I really am. Proud of you, I mean._

_Tell me about camp, because I’m dying to know. How is Georgia? Beautiful, I bet. I’ve always wanted to go._

_Love,_

_Ruth_

* * *

Skip lay on his bunk in the barracks and smiled softly at his sister’s letter. Man, had it only been a few weeks since the last time he’d seen her? It felt like forever. He closed his eyes and thought of his mother’s blueberry pie. Ruth was right, it _was_ his favorite. He could imagine it easily: the family outside in the yard, gathered for a picnic, sunshine and green grass, and a cool breeze blowing in from the river. Ruth, and his mom and dad, and Faye…. 

A shout rang out, followed by a bark of laughter and an obscene noise. Skip cracked an eye open and glanced sideways where Perconte and Luz were bitching at each other like an old married couple. Jeez. So Ruth wanted to know what camp was like, huh?

_September 3, 1942_

_Dear Ruthie,_

_You wanna know what Georgia is like? Here it goes: Mud, bugs, a bunch of sweaty guys in shorts, and a whole lot of yelling. They’ve got this mountain here, called “Currahee.” It’s three miles up and three miles back down. They have us running the thing twice a week. The first time I did it, I puked my guts up. Don’t tell mom I said that. It wasn’t fun, but then again, this is the army, isn’t it? I know what I was getting myself into._

Skip paused to shoot the guys another glance when Liebgott somehow found his way into the argument. A quick look around the barracks told him there was no sign of Lip, or Martin either. He had a feeling he knew how this was going to turn out. He went back to writing.

_The guys are about what you’d expect. We’ve got big ones and small ones and smart ones and dumb ones. You know how it goes—there’s a place for everyone in the army! But I’ve made a couple buddies already, Don and Penk, and so things aren’t that bad. When they’ve got us crawling through mud or running up that mountain, I know I’m at least not suffering alone. And my CO! What an interesting fella! Do you remember Mr. Miller, the geography teacher? Well, my CO’s a lot like him, so you can imagine the fun I’m having!_

_Anyway, enough of that now. I hope you enjoyed that blueberry pie for me. Tell mom, dad, and Faye I say hi. Love ya sis,_

_Skip_

* * *

_September 8, 1942_

_Dear Skip,_

_Mr. Miller, you say? How lucky can you possibly be? It sounds like you’re having a great old time. Do you remember the gift the boys gave him on that last day of school? Think happy thoughts like that, Skip, and I’m sure you’ll be alright._

_Faye came by yesterday. She’s looking for work and I am too. Things are tough, as always, and every little bit helps. They’re hiring for telephone operators in Buffalo. We plan on going to apply. In the meantime, she and I have been volunteering for the Red Cross, putting up posters for blood drives and putting together boxes of supplies. Those Brits have got it pretty bad right now, and so do our boys in the Pacific. That’s what all the news reels say, anyway._

_Mom was happy to hear from you. I think you should write her more, if you can. She tries to keep busy, but I know she worries. I tell her not to—you’re only in Georgia, after all. But she tells me that Georgia is so far away from Tonawanda, and I guess she’s right._

_Love,_

_Ruth_

* * *

Skip smirked wickedly when he read his sister’s letter. Ah, good ol’ Mr. Miller, the meanest, most hated teacher in their entire high school. The guy was a real son of a bitch, always barking orders and telling the students they were stupid. He’s say “What, you can’t tell the difference between Alberta and Saskatchewan? What are you, an imbecile? It’s on the map, right there.” And then he’d make you stand and memorize the map, in front of the whole class. What a bastard, really. But that last day of school. Oh, that blessed, glorious last day…. Some enterprising hero had put a frog in Miller’s desk drawer and when he’d reached in to grab a new piece of chalk, the thing had jumped out at him and they’d all had the pleasure of hearing him scream like a girl.

Ruth was right. If Skip simply closed his eyes and thought of Sobel, falling flat on his face in the mud or talking with spinach stuck in his teeth, he’d probably make it through Toccoa alive.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments are love! Please let me know what you thought and feel free to come say hi on tumblr. I'm @realhunterswearplaid.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Dear Skip](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27133411) by [Lysel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysel/pseuds/Lysel)




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